Maferath's Kin
by Ryu Niiyama
Summary: From Maferath, came love's betrayal. Yet none speak of the Maker that took his wife or the war that usurped his glory. None speak of the losses one must endure to protect a greater truth. None remember that Frail Love can not thrive under the weight of leadership. Yet Celene I of Orlais remembers. For it is a lesson etched upon her soul.


Maferath's kin

By Ryu Niiyama

Disclaimer: Not mine of course.

Rated T

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Every night when she spoke the chant of Light she also spoke a Dailish prayer of mourning. She was the Lioness, the grand Empress of the Game and yet to her own eyes she would always be the Betrayer. Tonight, she asked the Maker for strength to face what was to come. The crown demanded so much and the Game even moreso. She was a monster, and yet she was exactly what her country had bred her to be.

She could never be the woman that she wished to be. A woman that her beloved would be proud to love, a woman that her beloved could always love without fear. Her mind drifted to the ball and both the horror and the wondrous chance the Inquisitor had given her.

She had heard the rumors of a budding romance between Lady Inquisitor Adaar and Lady Montilyet. The two women had been discreet but Celene had caught a few stolen glances and warm smiles. Amongst Orlasian nobles, they might as well as embraced upon the ballroom floor. How she longed for such freedom. If a Qunari and an Antivian noble could find love in the midst of the end times why was it denied to her?

Yet the answer came to her easily. Barbaric as the Qunari were, she suspected Lady Adaar, with her surprising soft-spoken courtly manners had not killed the parents of Lady Montilyet. Nor had they spent years subtly at each other's throats. Neither of them had the machinations of the entire country of Orlais weighting them down as well. Still, she longed for that freedom. She longed to dance with her love as they had tonight, eyes only for each other. She supposed that was why Orlaisians loved romance so much. For a country nursed upon the mother's milk of treachery and pride, romance was an unobtainable fantasy.

She would have to stay in the guest wing for the night given all the murders that had taken place. Still, as she'd walked through the halls no guard or servant accompanied her. She'd had the guest wing of the palace emptied on purpose. For she knew that her judge and temptation would come for her. She wanted none to hear what she had to say save one. Celene swore to herself as she looked into Briala's beautiful eyes before cementing their alliance, for this woman alone she would remove her mask. No more masks, no more hiding. At least not before this woman, no matter the cost. To prepare herself, the Empress removed her ballroom mask and unbound her luxurious hair. With a sigh, she let the mask clatter to the floor and she stared into the fire to wait.

Her beloved did not disappoint. It took time but eventually the familiar presence of her love caused her heartbeat to treble. Celene said nothing as she heard soft footsteps draw close to her before Briala paused at her side. For a few moments they stared into the flickering flames together, and in that moment they were equals. Yet, Celene knew she could not fall into the illusion. Taking a steading breath, the Empress turned to her still masked spymaster and ally.

"I have given you my heart Briala, but I cannot give you my life. Not yet. Orlais still needs me, however I swear to you when Orlais is at peace and I have named an heir, I shall not evade your blade." Though the worlds were sincere, the Empress knew they would enrage her beloved. A flush tainted the dusky cheeks and Briala slapped Celene with enough force to snap her head back and make her head ring.

"How dare you! How dare you presume the right to grace me with my vengeance! I should have known. You were always a master player of the Game." Celene refused to hold her burning cheek as she met the furious eyes of her beloved. Instead she stared the smaller woman down her own anger shining through.

"How dare I? You are no more innocent than I, dear one. WE are Orlaisian! We are what the Game has made us! You speak to me of betrayal? What of the elven girl whose hand was removed and her eyes put out merely to assure your position? Did your mother care for her tears? Did she care for the mother of that girl's anguish? How many of your own have you sent to their deaths in an attempt to strike at me? How many innocents have been caught in between all of our sides? My throne is built upon the corpses of my family, where instead of affection we give poison and daggers! If I had not purged the servant's quarters or the Alienage I would have lost my throne and the ability to protect you! Do you think that if I had not done these things that it would have made life better for you? Non, ma petit renarde! Lady Mantillion would have killed me, your parents would have died still and the only difference is that you would have perished with them! _That_ I will _never_ allow to happen!"

Fully engrossed in her rage, Celene began to pace while Briala could only look on in shock. Celene raged at the cruelty of the Game. No matter how well she played and no matter how much she struggled, the one woman that she cherished and desired above all else was always out of her reach. "Whatever you may think of me and my reign my love, Gaspard and those like him would have plunged Orlais into chaos! Do you know who would have suffered most? The elves! What rights your people have and what concessions I've made during my reign would have washed away like the sand beneath the tide." Suddenly as soon as she began her tirade the silver haired human turned with tear filled eyes and she strode angrily towards the Elvhan woman.

Stopping just short of Briala, it took all of Celene's willpower to resist touching the Elvhan woman. To embrace her or shake some sense into her, the Lioness could not be certain. "Do you not think for one moment that if I had the power that I would place Orlais at your feet?! I would abandon my very faith to exalt you as my Queen! You should be adorned in the finest silks! Your every need and desire attended to! Yet I cannot topple centuries of tradition for love. I cannot change Orlais in an instant! The Orlais I believe in…the Orlais I dream of sharing with you cannot be built in a moment's notice! To make matters worse, you know this! You know this truth better than any other and still you judge me as the sole source of your pain!" Celene grit her teeth at the bitter taste the dream denied soured her soul with. Briala should have been her Queen, the pride of her rule instead her beloved was ashamed.

Briala was stunned into silence, she had never seen Celene lose her composure like this, though she supposed it was a long time coming. Finally Celene seemed to deflate upon herself, her eyes growing dead and weary. Slowly, she reached out as if to stroke Briala's cheek before letting her hand drop dejectedly.

"Was there not _love_ Briala? Am I alone in my reverie? Was it not my arms that held you when the flash of lightning made you afraid? Was it not my voice that whispered to you the stories of the Grand Tourney when you could not sleep? Was it not my fingers that wove a crown of Andraste's Grace for you everyday? Was it not my lips and my hands that coaxed release from between your trembling thighs? Has everything that we shared become meaningless to you?"

Briala refused to let her anger be stifled under the weight of Celene's remorse. "I was your servant!" Briala began yet, Celene refused to be denied. She would not take the blame alone. She would not be accused of using her beloved any longer.

"You were my Love! You _are_ my Love! Who is the true servant Briala? I have ruled this country alone, unwed AND celibate because no other can compare. I have entertained your attacks against me, your backbiting merely to atone! If my love cannot sustain you than perhaps my blood shall grant you peace. You speak of injustice, yet you so quickly forget that it is a double edged blade. I cannot express the fury that beats within my heart knowing that merely because of who your parents are I am denied the simple pleasure of being able to speak with you freely, to hold you, to marry you because of a hatred that belongs to our ancestors and not to me! Even if I could…Even if you and I were both human, I'd have to spend the rest of our lives protecting you from the Game."

For a moment Celene's mind flashed upon her greatest nightmare. She is on her knees, clutching a dagger buried within her belly as she watches in silent horror as Briala stands above her. Just before her life leaves her she watches as an Elvhan woman with obscured features draws Briala into her embrace and calls her wife. Anguish and rage lance her soul and the Empress turns and slams her fist onto the nearby tea table with enough force to splinter the wood. Years later and still the same old wounds separated them. They were shattered, and could never be mended. The pain of that realization was almost enough to drive Celene mad. Furious, she turns towards Briala, once more her eyes alight with her pain.

"I sent you away! I sent you away from my side when my every instinct demanded you remain with me! I sent you away so that you could be free! How many years have I only been able to meet you in dreams? How I feared when…_if,_ you returned to me that you'd left the memory of a woman I'd never even met and yet she could call you wife merely because she was Elvhan! It isn't _fair_ Briala, but it is who we are. Even monsters can love ma petit renarde…desperately in fact."

Celene could bear it no longer. She could not remain in the presence of the woman she so loved, so desired and not possess her. Briala may have been a spymaster, but she had not been trained by some of the greatest bards in Orlais. Moving faster than she had a right to in a ball gown, Celene quickly pressed the Elvhan woman against the nearby wall and plundered the full lips that had haunted her dreams for years. Briala expected their teeth to clash with the force of Celene's approach, yet despite the absolute steely grip the human's mouth was pliant, yet demanding. The feel of the Empress's graceful tongue intertwining with her own surprised the spymaster so much that she didn't think to bite down; she could only yield to the gentle demand.

Celene was afloat as if upon a sea of wine. Finally, finally Briala was where she belonged. Within Celene's embrace and yielding to her touch, and soon they would never be parted again. With negligent strength, the Empress pinned both of the Elvhan's slender arms above her head with a forearm. With a groan the silver haired Empress removed the mask and hair-covering from Briala's face; never once breaking the contact of their lips. Lost within the paradise that was her beloved, the human nudged a thigh in-between Briala's hips and began rotate her pelvis against her, sending shocks to her core.

Groaning softly, Celene left succulent lips and grazed her teeth sharply against Briala's delicate neck. The spymaster's breath hitched at the feeling and Celene fought down a smile of pride. No one could love Briala as she could, none could send the Elvhan woman to such heights as she. _'No one else. She is mine. Only mine!'_ The fervor of the thought likely would have shocked Briala if could have heard it. Yet Celene could not offer those words. Words between them only brought forth the bitter poison of betrayal, but in this… in lips and hands and yearning, aching flesh could Celene be honest with the Lady of her heart. Suckling sweet flesh softly, the Empress felt her control being burned to embers in the flames of her passion. Celene's heart raged, fueled by heartache and desire, she would banish the specter of any other lover from Briala's heart. The Game be damned, this woman was made for Celene Valmont alone, and she would prove it.

Yet she could feel the tension of her beloved, and shame suffused her at her actions. She'd taken enough from Briala…she would not let their memories of passion shared be tainted as well. Despite what Briala may think of her, the Elvhan woman was always safe with her and she wouldn't betray that. Even if it was a promise that she only kept to herself. Panting harshly, Celene pulled away. As she gazed upon the kiss bruised lips and the tousled hair of her love, it took a monumental effort to keep the Empress from taking her beloved completely. Briala clutched at the wall with her now freed hands, angry and ashamed that she had almost become the "Empress' rabbit" once again.

The Elvhan woman didn't not seem to be cognizant of nearly irresistible sight she made, trembling in her fury and calling to Celene like a silent siren. Looking away to spare herself the temptation, Celene whispered her atonement to her beloved. "I know I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. I know your love is lost to me forever. Such a loss will haunt me to the end of my days. Even still, I need you to know that everything I've done has been for you and Orlais. I love you ma petit renarde and I shall until the very end of my days."

Swift as a shadow, the Empress was gone from the chamber, leaving Briala to her thoughts. Without the platinum haired human there to confuse her heart, the angry, aroused tension began to bleed from her bones, leaving only bittersweet weariness. Slowly, the spymaster slunk onto the nearby sofa and she plucked the discarded mask of the Empress from the floor. Gazing into the polished silver, Briala could only stare into the past when she was a young maiden fortunate enough to spend every day with the woman she adored. Celene was right. They were both monsters…but even Maferath had loved Andraste even as he betrayed her.

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This has been edited slightly from the original.

Please Read and Review.

Your Neighborhood Friendly Dragon,

Ryu Niiyama


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